Carmen XIV: To Calvus, Acknowledging His Poems
Did I not liefer love thee than my eyes(Winsomest Calvus!), for that gift of thineCertes I'd hate thee with Vatinian hate.Say me, how came I, or by word or deed,To cause thee plague me with so many a bard?The Gods deal many an ill to such a client,Who sent of impious wights to thee such crowd.But if (as guess I) this choice boon new-foundTo thee from "Commentator" Sulla come,None ill I hold it--well and welcome 'tis,For that thy labours ne'er to death be doom'd.Great Gods! What horrid booklet damnableUnto thine own Catullus thou (perdie!)Did send, that ever day by day die heIn Saturnalia, first of festivals.No! No! thus shall't not pass wi' thee, sweet wag,For I at dawning day will scour the boothsOf bibliopoles, Aquinii, Caesii andSuffenus, gather all their poison-trashAnd with such torments pay thee for thy pains.Now for the present hence, adieu! begoneThither, whence came ye, brought by luckless feet,Pests of the Century, ye pernicious Poets.
An of my trifles peradventure chanceYou to be readers, and the hands of youWithout a shudder unto us be offer'd
Words in this poem
- certes adv.
- Certainly; in truth; verily. [F. certes, for à certes, fr. L. certus. See Certain.]
- boon n.
- A prayer or petition. [OE. bone, boin, a petition, fr. Icel. b; akin to Sw. & Dan. b, AS. b, and perh. to E. ban; but influenced by F. bon good, fr. L. bonus. Ban, Bounty.]
- horrid a.
- Rough; rugged; bristling. [L. horridus. See Horror, and cf. Ordure.]
- booklet n.
- A little book. T. Arnold.
- damnable a.
- Liable to damnation; deserving, or for which one deserves, to be damned; of a damning nature. [L. damnabilis, fr. damnare: cf. F. damnable. See Damn.]
- luckless a.
- Being without luck; unpropitious; unfortunate; unlucky; meeting with ill success or bad fortune; as, a luckless gamester; a luckless maid.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Carmen XIV: To Calvus, Acknowledging His Poems is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Carmina, Project Gutenberg ebook #20732, the Richard Burton translation; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Catullus, Carmen XIV: To Calvus, Acknowledging His Poems, in The Carmina (1894), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #20732, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/catullus-carmina/carmen-xiv-to-calvus-acknowledging-his-poems.html, id L13797.
Form and metre
Carmen XIV: To Calvus, Acknowledging His Poems is 26 lines in 2 verse paragraphs. It is unrhymed, as far as the pronouncing dictionary can tell. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 84%). 95% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.2 syllables. 5 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 46% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic pentameter, other poems in blank verse.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Did I not liefer love thee than my eyes | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| (Winsomest Calvus!), for that gift of thine | 10 | /˘˘······· |
| Certes I'd hate thee with Vatinian hate. | 10 | /˘········ |
| Say me, how came I, or by word or deed, | 10 | ·········· |
| To cause thee plague me with so many a bard? | 10 | ·······/·· |
| The Gods deal many an ill to such a client, | 11 | ···/·····/˘ |
| Who sent of impious wights to thee such crowd. | 11 | ···˘/˘····· |
| But if (as guess I) this choice boon new-found | 10 | ·········· |
| To thee from "Commentator" Sulla come, | 10 | ···/˘·˘··· |
| None ill I hold it--well and welcome 'tis, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| For that thy labours ne'er to death be doom'd. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Great Gods! What horrid booklet damnable | 10 | ···/˘/˘/˘˘ |
| Unto thine own Catullus thou (perdie!) | 10 | ········˘/ |
| Did send, that ever day by day die he | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| In Saturnalia, first of festivals. | 10 | ·······/˘˘ |
| No! No! thus shall't not pass wi' thee, sweet wag, | 10 | ·········· |
| For I at dawning day will scour the booths | 10 | ···/˘··/·· |
| Of bibliopoles, Aquinii, Caesii and | 10 | ·········· |
| Suffenus, gather all their poison-trash | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| And with such torments pay thee for thy pains. | 10 | ···/······ |
| Now for the present hence, adieu! begone | 10 | ···/˘·˘/˘/ |
| Thither, whence came ye, brought by luckless feet, | 10 | /˘·····/˘· |
| Pests of the Century, ye pernicious Poets. | 11 | ···/˘·˘/˘/˘ |
| An of my trifles peradventure chance | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| You to be readers, and the hands of you | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Without a shudder unto us be offer'd | 11 | ···/˘····/˘ |
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